eternal search for that happy place

Fall out.

I’ve been feeling this quite a while but I think I’m falling out of friendship with a certain, well, friend. I don’t think she barely remembers old friends; her new life must be really amazing. I refused to confront her, telling myself that I really don’t care and that she’s just caught up with life like what happens to the most of us. And that every once in a blue moon that she gets to talk to me she’d say I missed you and that she’s sorry for being off the grid. I want to believe that she was sincere (I suppose she is) but at the back of my mind, you know it’s just not how it used to be.

A lot of people have come and gone in my life and I adapted to the loss time after time. That’s how it works, right? Perhaps we weren’t friends enough to begin with? No solid base? But I cried on the phone when I told you a secret I have never told anyone and my heart and soul was ripped open and apart just by admitting to a person. It was the lowest point of my life. You said you didn’t judge me. At the highest point, I told you the best news. I screamed with happiness. You said you were happy for me.

Where are you now, friend? If we were really friends, despite the space and time you’d make the effort. Now I’m really pissed off. Here’s a tip to someone who’s a friend to someone: don’t tell them you’re too busy. If someone matters so much to you, you will make the time. No relationship is one sided, friendship included. You both make it work or it doesn’t at all. You never know what the time you’re giving means to them. Being busy is bullshit. You’re not the only one dealing with the shit life keeps chucking at us. Life takes its toll. It’s stressful and it beats us down. The only respite you get when it gets really tough is the person you’re with along the way. You don’t get to treat them like they don’t exist; like they are part of an old civilization in history books after everything you’ve been through.

I regret telling you anything. I thought you were different. My heart was wrenched when I told you everything. Every fucking thing I died a million times over for. You might think we haven’t fallen out, but after I sign the last period on this entry it’s going to be official. I refuse to admit it, write about it, talk about it because if I did, it will make everything true. I guess it’s been the truth all long. We’ve fallen apart.

Hi There!

Photo+blog of a late bloomer. I like to take photos, eat and read books on my free time. I'm a series junkie! You can see how much I can overshare in the about page. Feel free to follow and comment! I'd love a conversation or two.